How could it be
by katie666
Summary: A Kakashicentric story focusing on events after Kyuubi's attack, decisions he had to make then and their consequences in the present. Probably AU


Dreams

A/N The basis idea for this fic has been stuck in my mind for the very long time before I decided to start writing it. It won't be very long (just few short chapters) and I tried to write it in slightly indirect way. You will probably guess what's going on;)

R&R to say if I should continue.

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Dreams

It's said that at night brain tries to analyse and properly put in order all sensual impressions you gather during the day. Everyone agrees that it's quite a good theory, yes, but is it all? What about seeing future events, a phenomenon that happens rather rarely but happens nonetheless? Surely there must be something more. People wouldn't write all those dream books if it was that simple, right?

Perhaps. But what if dreams show the past instead of the future? It's also said that brain doesn't forget anything. What if some of memories disguise themselves as part of random dreams? Lots of people would be overjoyed to recall some of their earliest experiences, whereas the others might just shrug indifferently. But even they have some memories they don't want to fade into oceans of the subconscious.

If that's the case, well, it's a pity that we don't remember _all_ of dreams in the morning.

The dreams of the younger are surprisingly normal. Sometimes weird but whose dreams aren't? He dreams of his friends and people he met through his training, the future missions and past assignments. Once in a while he may dream about that one friend that isn't beside him and those nights leave him tired and on the verge of tears. There are also times when the images he sees reflect his mood or worries. Of course, as a teenager he has dreams he never ever tells anyone because he would die of embarrassment before event reaching the most interesting part.

Usually, he forgets his dreams as soon as he gets up and only rarely spares them more than on thought. Who would waste his time on some dreams when there are so many things to do?

The creature inside him knows better, though. He understands them more than his host and could decipher their meaning more accurately if he ever bothered to. But most of all, he knows which parts of dreams are really important. Because the demon remembers, even if this human has already forgotten. Inside his cage he thinks about

(confident hands lifting the child to the air and swirling him around)

(a smell of rain and forest and ozone and metal all combined into one)

(white butterflies dancing around child's head, disappearing when chubby finger poked them with cry of joy)

(long eyelashes tickling his cheek and pair of soft lips kissing his forehead gently)

(merry voice singing old lullabies while rocking the infant)

(blurry face framed by halo of silky hair)

… and wonders about the mystery that is human memory.

The dreams of the older one are nowhere that innocent. To say that he has nightmares would be a euphemism. They are more than violent, full of blood and screams and pain and _madness _waiting for him around every corner. At night his mind betrays him and recalls everything he so hardly tries to push away.

The traitorous imagination provides him with pictures of a man that was once his greatest hero holding a blooded blade and another man disappearing in the flames. He can see his friends, his comrades looking at him with slight disapproval because he lives and they don't and why is he wasting _their _time?

And sometimes he can almost feel the lips of his first lover, the ones that taught how to find pleasure in something that was, after all, a part of their mission. But all dreams connected with sex always end in a white sterile room and he tries quickly to wake up before he'd have to go through that (hell) again.

There were times when he would wake up with scream and find a his own blood on his hands. There were nights when he couldn't sleep at all, afraid of things he might see. There were moments when he would find himself kneeling in the middle of his flat and cleaning the floor with the toothbrush in attempt to calm himself before going to sleep.

But those nights are long gone. As a ninja he cannot afford to show any emotion that could be used against him (and he's not being watched, oh no, definitely not him) so he learnt to sleep motionless and without uttering a sound.

The only dreams that leave his eyes wet now are the pleasant ones.

But those are rare, so maliciously rare, and even if they make him shake and stole his breath he cherishes them more than anything. He doesn't want to forget those two years when he believed that live could be different. If he forgets about…

(little cottage surrounded by large trees, full of books and toys)

(a feeling of power rushing down his veins and satisfaction that comes from creating)

(a childhood dream, the one no one knew about, slowly coming true)

(that delicate being, so fragile and easy to hurt)

… he will never manage to finish his matters properly. And he cannot afford any mistakes – the stake was too high to make even one false move. He's is not the naive teenager he used to be. Besides, the precautions he took should be enough to warn them.

In the darkness of his bedroom the man smiles lightly (and it's good that no one can see his face know; it would ruin the image he's been so hard working on).

If those people try to cheat…


End file.
